Ryan Knows A Lot About Assholes.

After dinner last night, Ryan and I were walking home, up Lincoln Ave. It was a hot, humid night, because of the rain that we'd had off and on, all day long. We were in the process of figuring out all of the problems of the Improv world, when I said that I needed to stop at the pharmacy.

"That's fine," he said, "What do you need?"

"Castor Oil and Baking Soda." I said. And we walked into the pharmacy, preparing to wander until we found those two things. We kept chatting about improv and improvisers, as we found our way into the medicine section of the pharmacy.

"What is Castor oil, anyways?" he said.

"I dunno. I guess it comes from casters." I said. Immediately, I thought about the casters on the bottom of grocery carts.

"What do you need it for?" he asked.

I avoided looking at him, to scan the shelves. "I don't want to say."

I gave up looking for the product on my own and walked over to ask the helpful pharmacist.

"Hey man," I said. He looked like a nice enough guy. Clean-cut, short brown hair. He had on a tie-died, rock and roll t-shirt under his white, pharmacists coat. The kind of guy you called "man". "Where would I find the Castor Oil?"

"Hmm, good question. I've never looked for it myself. Try over by First Aid." I looked over at the First Aid aisle and gave it a long distance scan. "If you don't find it there, let me know and I'll order it for you. I can have it by Wednesday of next week."

I appreciated the offer but since it wasn't a Castor Oil emergency, expedited shipping wasn't necessary. I shuffled over to the medicine section. Ryan was right there with me.

"So, what IS this for?" he finally asked.

"A personal thing," I said.

"Is it for your asshole?" The pharmacist walked up to us, just as Ryan asked this. He chuckled quietly to himself.

"No man. It's not for my asshole." I said indignantly. My asshole was fine. It didn't need Castor Oil or any other type of oil. My asshole was Jim Dandy.

Ryan turned to the pharmacist and said "Is Castor Oil for your asshole?" He quietly considered the question before he spoke.

"I guess it could be. It is a laxative, after all. But I think you take it orally. It can also be used as an Anti-Inflammatory agent--"

"For assholes." offered Ryan, finishing the pharmacists sentence.

"Sure," he said. "I guess so."

"It's not for my asshole, guys. My asshole is just fine. It's Jim Dandy."

"Well, then what is it for?" And I realize that both the pharmacist and Ryan are looking at me now. I have to come clean or both of them will think it is for my asshole.

"I have skin tags. A few of them. They're relatively small, but they annoy me. I'm going to mix the Castor oil with the baking soda into a paste and apply it to my skin tags until their gone. Castor oil is a light acid."

Ryan looked over at the pharmacist and he agreed. "It's true. It is a natural acid."

"Yeah, but what the Hell are Skin Tags?" asked Ryan.

"They're small skin irregularities. You get them as you get older. Here, I'll show you." And I pulled down my collar and showed him the one on the back of my neck. The pharmacist leaned in to get a good look too.

"JESUS CHRIST!" yelped Ryan. "That's fucking gross, dude."

"No, it's not. It's barely noticeable. It's teeny tiny. You've been around me for years and you've never seen it. It doesn't hurt. It isn't growing. It's just there. And I'm getting rid of it with the Castor oil." The pharmacist had it in his hand. The Castor oil. He'd found it in the laxatives section.

"You know, my mom used Preparation H for the same thing," said the pharmacist.

"For what?" I asked.

"For burning off skin tags. She said that someone had told her about it and so she tried it."

"Did it work?" I asked, considering all options.

"She said it did. You might want to consider getting some Preparation H."

"It's good for assholes too." offered the helpful Ryan.

So, I bought the Castor oil, the baking soda, and two different wart remover kits. A paste and one of those discrete bandage kits. I'm wearing three of the bandages right now. As I type this. Two under my left arm and one under my right arm. According to the instructions, I need to change them in another 24 hours. After the salicylic acid has had time to burn away the excess skin. I'll report back to the blog and let you know how the skin tag removal is going. I'm sure it's just the bracing sort of info that my readers are hungry for.

But just you know this, as I sit here, modern medicine is correcting a few minor flaws that may not mean anything to you, but which have been bothering me for a while now. So much so, that I don't want to be seen without a shirt on. Not because of my size, but because these tiny little genetic markers are just fucking gross and I didn't want anyone to see them. In 48 hours, they'll be a distant memory.

You'll be glad to know that my asshole is also in good, working order.
In fact, it's Jim Dandy.